Tentatively

You aren't so sheltered that you don't realize what he wants. You came here, yourself, for a similar reason, a release from responsibility for just one night, for a few simple moments. He is willing to give it to you, you need only ask.

You grasp that hand that seeks to delve into a territory unknown, feeling the warmth of his body surround you. He doesn't fight, body lax, though still supporting the feel of a living being while you take this moment to feel and wonder if it is, truly, what you want to allow. There is a fine border that presents itself, one that he is willing to cross if you will cross it with him. This border between master and servant to something more intimate, something more special, something deeper that you haven't allowed yourself for quite a long time.

A connection with one's zanpakutou is said to be a deep connection beyond anything in the material world, but is it acceptable to seek something like this with the one you rely on to protect?

It takes a long silence and patience that Senbonzakura inherited from you before you release his hand, fingers still lingering on the thumb prepared to loop into the knot of your obi and untie the last bond you hold to your pride.

Soft lips, lips that don't belong to a mask with such a fearsome stare, press lightly against your throat. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the mask adjusted so only his mouth may be seen, teasing, testing you. You do desire to tear it from him, as he's threatening to do with your own. However, your patience will be rewarded--you don't plan to rush this.

When he understands your hesitation is over and your acceptance begins, the hand on your hip pulls away to join the other in the process of untying that complicated knot, one you share in common, thus an easy task for him to remove.

It's easy, yet it takes longer than you expect. He takes his time, shifting his weight behind you, giving you one last chance to protest. When you give him none, he stops delaying, allowing himself the impatience he has during times like this when emotions run high and the mind gets away from itself. That white strip of cloth that binds you slips away, Senbonzakura catching his sword form before it can fall, while his other hand is busy ensuring your hakama does not fall.